The Reign of Chaos
by BreakingBadLikeABoss
Summary: Post TDK. Kate Taggart has the perfect life, or so it would seem, however, her world is turned upside down when her fiance sells her to Gotham's mafia as payment for his debts. Now Kate is thrown into a nightmare, with no hope of escaping. Her only saving grace is her history with the Joker. No one takes what belongs to Joker, and lives to tell about it. Joker/OC. T for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This fic is written as the prequel/spinoff to my Bane fic "The Sound of Madness." Since it is a prequel, you don't necessarily have to read my other story first, but I will be using some of the same characters/plot from Madness, so you might be more familiar with the characters and plot if you read it first, but it's not a requirement. ; )**

**With that being said, I don't own any of the Batman characters, and I'm not profiting off this in any way. I just like to write. All comments are welcome, so please let me know what you think!**

**Read, review, and enjoy!**

**The Reign of Chaos**

Chapter 1

The frigid night air bit at Kate as she walked across the parking lot, towards her car. She had put in yet another late night at the office. Working late had become a habit for her ever since she had been engaged, as had drinking. Kate's engagement was not something that she particularly cared to think about. The only love that existed in that arrangement was the love that Kate had for her family, and her father's legacy.

As she opened the door to her silver Porsche Cayman and tossed her Coach purse into the passenger seat, she shook her head sadly, remembering the old adage that money can't buy you happiness. How true that was for her. She had everything that she could possibly ever, and none of it mattered.

Kate gracefully swung herself into the Porsche, closing the door behind her, and started the ignition. She sat in the parking lot for a while, allowing the car to warm up, while taking deep breaths, just as her therapist had taught her to do. This was the most stressful part of her day. Kate spent nearly twelve hours every day running an international airlines corporation, almost single-handedly; but her job was a welcome reprieve from this.

Her fiancé, Miles, was far more stressful than her job. He was constantly drinking and gambling. Most nights, when she returned home from work, he would either be out gambling, or passed out on the couch, drunk. Sometimes, he would be awake, and those were the times that Kate feared the most. Miles could never keep his hands off of her.

Thus far, she had resisted sleeping with him, but she was running out of excuses. Their arguments after her refusals were becoming progressively more heated, and Kate was unsure as to how much longer this could go on until Miles simply took what he wanted by force. With the wedding only two weeks away, she knew that Miles' self-control would wear thin much sooner than she would like.

Natalie, her best friend from college, had been her only tie to sanity as of late. She was two years younger than Kate, and still in college, but they kept in touch regularly. She had even threatened to fly up from Texas and kick Miles' ass.

The thought of her small, but mean, 5' 4'' friend from college taking on her 6' 2'' fiancé was enough to make the somber Kate break out into a smile. She had loved Natalie from the moment they had met. The younger woman was fearless, with a wild and fiery spirit that Kate envied greatly.

Natalie had not grown up as Kate had. Her solution concerning Kate's upcoming wedding was that she should change her name, and run away. To forget about it all, and start over somewhere new. Natalie's family was not poor, but they did not own a multi-billion dollar airline industry either. The younger woman could not even begin to fathom the responsibilities involved, and the sacrifices that had to be made, in order to run a company that carried your name.

After a few more deep breaths, Kate finally shifted the car into drive, and made a course for her apartment. The drive home lasted fifteen minutes, but it seemed much shorter. She parked her Porsche underneath the awning reserved for her, and killed the engine. She took one last deep breath before exiting the vehicle.

The icy wind hit Kate like a sledgehammer; sending pin pricks of cold over her entire body. She pulled her jacket tightly around her upper body, trying to keep some of the cold at bay, as she made the trek to her apartment. Kate climbed two flights of stairs on the side of the complex, her heels clicking on the cement steps, until she reached her penthouse apartment on the third floor.

She fumbled with her purse until she found the keys that she was looking for, and inserted it into the lock, twisted quickly, and pushed open the door. Kate had expected to find Miles passed out on the couch, drunk like always, but could never have anticipated what awaited her inside.

Miles was running around the apartment, grabbing anything that could even remotely be used as a weapon. He was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled and mismatched, as if he had been dressed by a five year old, and had slept in those clothes for several nights. His ebony hair stood out in all directions, and his green eyes shone with a wild madness, like an animal trapped in a cage. Miles' attention snapped to Kate as he heard the creak of the door opening.

The frenzied look in his eyes made Kate's heart stop with fear. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Before she had a chance to piece together what was happening, Miles approached her, and thrust a butcher knife into her hands. "They're coming," he breathed hurriedly. "Help me block the door."

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, taking in the scene that was playing out before her, when she suddenly began to panic. "W-What did you do?" she asked worriedly, her voice shaking with a fervor equal to that of her hands. The butcher knife glistened, and slipped to the floor, as the handle became slick with her cold, nervous sweat.

"Who's coming?" she forced, her voice dropping to a whisper. Miles regarded her for a moment, taking in her fear before he spoke, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "Vince De Luca's men."

Kate instantly panicked at his words. The De Luca family practically ran Gotham. When the Falcones had fallen, Giovanni De Luca and his sons, Vince and Tony, had moved in. They had taken Gotham by storm, and now ran the majority of the underground gambling rings. There was a lot of money to be made, and they had connections everywhere. The De Luca's were dangerous, and not to be trifled with. Miles was in over his head, and Kate knew it.

She flung herself to the floor, desperately grasping for the butcher knife that she had dropped, just in time to miss the ballistic tip .9 mm bullet that lodged itself into the wall directly behind where her head had just been. Kate screamed, frozen on the ground, as the sound of semi-automatic handguns firing, wood splintering, and glass shattering filled her ears.

Bullets peppered the living room of the penthouse apartment, and one grazed her shoulder roughly. She cried out as the white-hot pain ripped through her upper body. Beside her, Miles went down with a shot to the leg, where he lay on the floor, writhing in pain. Suddenly, the shots stopped, just as quickly as they had started.

Kate could hear men speaking in hushed voices on the other side of the wall, before the door was unceremoniously kicked in. Two large men entered the apartment, armed with Glock handguns, and headed straight for Miles. One of the men, who appeared to be in charge, grabbed him roughly by the front of his collar, and jerked him to his feet.

"Where's the boss' money?" he growled. Miles shrank back from his grip, fear playing across his face, and blurted out the truth. "I don't have it," he rushed. "I can get it for you, just give me some time!"

The hired gun snickered at his pleas. "You've had plenty of time, Miles," he retorted coldly. "It's time to pay up now. We talked to your rich daddy, and he's not gonna pay your debt, so you better pull that money out of your ass right now, or I'm gonna put a bullet in your head." He pressed the barrel of the Glock against Miles' temple to reinforce his threat. The hired gun saw his prey's absolute terror, and it only made him want to kill the man even more.

The gears in Miles' head began to turn, and he made a quick decision to try and save his skin. "Take her," he pleaded, gesturing towards Kate. The hired gun frowned, glancing at the young woman on the ground, several feet away.

She was both beautiful and classy, there was no doubt. Her dress was professional, suggesting that she was someone of importance at her place of employment. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back, and her bright blue eyes were wide with fear. Her shoulder was bleeding from the spot where the bullet had grazed her, and for a moment, the hired gun felt regret that this beautiful woman had been injured by his hand. That regret however, faded almost instantly, and he was all business once again.

"Why would I want her?" he growled at the struggling man in his grip. "She's of no use to me." Miles could feel his hope slipping away with each passing second. "You don't know who she is!" he blurted out, his panic rising. "That's Kate Taggart!"

The hired gun loosened his grip on Miles slightly, and turned his attention back to the young woman on the floor. "Taggart?" he asked, his interest growing. "Like Taggart Airlines? You really think that her father will pay your debts?" He snickered in amusement, turning his attention back to the man before him.

"He will pay for her," Miles said confidently. The hired gun released his hold on Miles' shirt collar, and shoved him away roughly. "You better hope you're right," he growled. "Because if you're not, I'll come back here. If I have to come back, I'll cut out your tongue for lying to me, and then I'll kill you."

Miles nodded nervously, and backed away, while the hired gun motioned to his partner. The other man nodded in understanding, and made his way towards Kate. She could barely breathe as he approached her. The butcher knife was clutched firmly in her hand, and hidden behind her back. When the man was within reach, she struck, stabbing the knife deep into his left leg.

The man roared in pain, and Kate felt pleasure as the warm, sticky blood from his wound washed over her hands. Her pleasure was short lived however, as the man's fist made contact with her face. The pain was unbearably intense, almost as though she had been hit by a truck. Kate desperately tried to open her eyes, but the darkness closed in, and consciousness slipped away from her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on FRIDAAAYYYY! Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, WEEKEENNDD!"

Dr. Harleen Quinzel cringed as the horrible tune of Rebecca Black's _Friday_ filled the asylum. She was well aware that today was Friday. She had known that it was Friday from the moment that she had pried herself out of bed this morning, so was it really necessary to sing about it? Then again, no one knew why the Joker behaved as he did, so she was fighting a losing battle by trying to get inside his head.

Harley had known that he was a hopeless case for months now, but she continued to treat him because she found him fascinating, and incredibly tempting. She had worked with Joker for over a year now, and what had began as an effort to try and "cure" him, was now an effort to understand what made him tick. Harley was absolutely mesmerized by how fascinating he was, and more than just a little bit taken with him as well. Although she would never admit the latter to anyone, she knew deep down that he was more than just a patient to her.

She was deep in thought when she heard a knock at the door. "Come in!" Harley called out. A young man walked into her office. He was tall, with dark brown hair, and green eyes. His most distinguishing trait however, was the scar that ran across his neck, as though someone had tried to slit his throat, and failed. He carried a brown paper bag with him, and gave her a forced smile as he entered her office.

"I'm Mr. Campbell," he stated, getting straight to the point. "I called earlier. I'm here to see the Joker." Harley nodded quickly, remembering his call very well. Joker did not get many visitors, and she had been surprised when Mr. Campbell had called, requesting to see him. She led him out the door, and down the hall, toward the room that he would meet the Joker in. She had already set up one of the visitation room, and made sure that there would be no surprise escapes from Joker today.

Eli "Hawk" Campbell followed the psychiatrist at a distance, watching her every move. He was a man of few words, and his years in the U.S. military as a special ops sniper, had caused him to distrust strangers. Harley showed him to the holding room, where Joker was already waiting, with a huge grin on his face.

Hawk entered the room, and shut the door firmly behind him. He heard the click of the lock, and watched Harley leave them. Once he was certain that no one was listening, he turned to his boss. "That girl you asked me to keep an eye on," he began immediately, dispensing with the pleasantries. "The De Luca's have taken her."

Joker's grin dropped instantly, and he could feel the anger rising up within him. "They've ah taken her?" he asked dangerously, his tongue running over his bottom lip. Hawk nodded, and waited for his boss' response. A move such as this would not go without consequences.

Joker thought for a moment, and Hawk knew that he had a plan when his grin returned. "How about we ah pay them a visit," he said, his anger boiling over. Hawk returned his grin wholeheartedly, and tossed his boss the brown paper bag. Joker opened it, pulling out several cans of grease paint. "I thought you might say that," Hawk remarked. "Where do we start?"

**So that's chapter one! Please feel free to leave any thoughts or comments you have for me! Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a wonderful week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so incredibly sorry that it took me ages to update this. I hope that you all can forgive me. Spring time on a ranch is hectic to say the least, and I've had a great idea for a novel, so I've been trying to put some of that on paper as well before I lose it. So again, my apologies for the late update. I will continue writing this story, but it just might take me awhile, so please bear with me. With that being said, you guys are all amazing! Thank you so much for all the follows, favorites, and reviews. Your support gives me the courage and the will to put my thoughts on paper, so thank you! Anyways, I will not take up any more of your time. Here is the next chapter, Please read, review, and enjoy!**

Chapter 2

_Kate had been deep in balancing chemical equations for the past twenty minutes, and the sound of a pencil hitting the floor jerked her back to reality. She bent over, scooping up the wayward pencil, and turned to the chair on her right to return it to its owner. _

_ Jack Napier had sat across from her in chemistry all year. They had talked a few times, but he was very shy, so Kate usually tried to avoid embarrassing him. She had caught Jack staring at her a few times, but he had always averted his eyes when she tried to meet his gaze._

_ "You dropped your pencil," Kate stated matter of factly, as she reached out to hand the writing utensil to him. "Um…thanks," Jack replied nervously, stretching his own hand out to take the pencil. His fingers met her palm, and he allowed them to linger for just a moment too long. Embarrassed, he grabbed the pencil, and pulled his hand away from hers._

_ His lingering touch was not lost on Kate, and she met his chocolate brown eyes for a brief moment before he looked away. She noticed the way that he bit the inside of his cheek when he was nervous, and the bright blush that colored his features. His shaggy blond hair hung down over his eyes, so unless he was looking directly at her, she could not tell what he was thinking. _

_ Jack was handsome, she would admit that much, but he was strange, and had never really fit in at Gotham High. Other students joked that he had been abducted by aliens, or had a freezer full of dead bodies at his house. Of course, Kate never believed any of that._

_ "What are you drawing?" she asked, pointing to the notebook that he had been doodling in previously. His blush deepened. "Nothing," Jack blurted out quickly, throwing his homework on top of the notebook, so she couldn't see. "Just some stuff for art class." Kate nodded, although she knew that he was lying to her. _

_ At that moment the bell rang, and students all around them began piling out, headed to their next class. Kate paused for a moment as Jack began to pack up his things. "Maybe you could show me sometime," she commented hesitantly. For the first time since he had grabbed the pencil, Jack met her eyes. "Maybe sometime," he agreed softly, biting the inside of his cheek once again._

_ "What the hell is this?" a voice snarled from the doorway of the classroom. Kate and Jack jerked their heads towards the door simultaneously, noting a very angry Collin glaring at them. Collin was the quarterback of the football team, and coincidently, also Kate's boyfriend. _

_ "Are you talking to my girl, freak?" the jock challenged, making sure to put extra emphasis on the word "freak." Heat began to rise up in Jack's cheeks, and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip slowly, as if planning his next move carefully. "I'm not a…uh… freak," he growled. "And I can talk to whoever I want to." _

_ Collin snickered, accepting Jack's unspoken challenge. "Freak," he spat vehemnantly, moving towards the smaller boy quickly. He shoved him, and then knocked over his backpack, spilling its contents on the floor. Collin was about to turn around and leave, when he noticed the drawing._

_ There, on the floor among Jack's things, was a sketch of Kate. It was elaborate and detailed, with every characteristic represented perfectly. Kate bent down and picked the drawing up, losing herself in it. It was truly beautiful, and the fact that she was its subject took her breath away._

_ Collin grabbed Jack roughly by the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, until their faces were only inches apart. "You talk to my girl again, and I'll come for you," the jock threatened. "I'll beat the shit out of you, and leave you to die in a gutter. You don't look at her, you don't talk to her. Are we clear?"_

_ Jack nodded in understanding, and Collin shoved him away. He grabbed the drawing from Kate's hands, and ripped it in half as an example for the smaller boy. Collin grabbed Kate roughly by the arm, and let her towards the door. She looked back, and her heart sank at the horrified expression on Jack's face._

_ "I'm sorry," Kate mouthed, as Collin led her out the door, and down the hallway. At the end of the hall, he threw the drawing in the trash and kept walking. Kate tried to forget the incident, but the memory of Jack, and the horrified expression on his face haunted her._

"Jack," Kate mumbled, opening her eyes slowly. Her eyelids felt swollen and heavy, and pain began to register from several places on her body. Her face and her shoulder both hurt like hell, and she could feel dried blood caked to her entire body.

She tried to reach up and assess the damage to her face, only to discover that she was tied to some sort of chair. Both her arms and legs were restrained, and her bonds gave her little to no wiggle room. This was it. This was how she was going to die.

At that moment, the door to the small room that she was being kept in opened, and a well-dressed man walked in. He was probably in his thirties, with dark hair, and olive skin. His well-kept facial hair and Armani suit reflected that he was a man of wealth and power. The man closed the door behind him, and made his way over to Kate.

"Hello," he said softly, coming to stand directly in front of her. "I'm Vince De Luca. You don't know me, but your fiancé does. He owes me a lot of money." Vince paused for a moment, watching her for any reaction. Kate remained silent, glaring at the man before her. She would not give him the satisfaction of watching her squirm.

Vince merely chuckled, obviously not intimidated by her gaze. "You've got a little fight in you, huh?" he commented, grinning at his hostage. He brought his hand up to her face, and ran it slowly downward, from her cheek to her collarbone. Kate cringed, trying to escape his touch, but it was impossible to move.

"I would love to have you for my own," he began. "But the boss has instructed us not to touch you in that manner. You're a cash hostage only, and when we get our money, you will be free to go." Kate shuddered, knowing very well that her father did not have much cash right now, and he would never sell the company, not even for his own daughter. She was screwed, but that was not a fact that she felt compelled to disclose to her captors. Their hope of money was the only thing keeping her alive right now.

Vince opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when the door to the room opened. The gunman that had snatched her earlier entered hesitantly, his large hulking frame filling the doorway. "What is it?" Vince snapped, turning to glare at the hired gun.

The other man took a deep breath, and got to the point quickly. "Sir, the Outlaw is on the phone for you. He doesn't sound happy, and he demanded to speak with you personally."

Vince's attitude changed almost instantly. Kate saw a brief flicker of panic in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. The Italian mobster followed his hired gun, slamming the door behind him, and leaving Kate on her own once again. When she was sure that no one could see her, she began to weep, tears running down her swollen face. She was going to die here.

The Joker counted each turn of the armor-plated van with a renewed sense of excitement. His time in the custody of Gotham's justice system would come to an end in just a few short minutes. Despite the pain it caused him, he grinned widely, letting loose a small chuckle for seemingly no reason.

The guard closest to him smacked him hard on the shoulder with his nightstick. "Shut up," he growled, clearly not in the mood for Joker's antics. "You're lucky we're even taking you to the hospital. If it was my call, I would have let you bleed out and die, you bastard."

The Joker grinned at the surly young guard, simply to irritate him, but he knew that the guard was right; he had been lucky. Getting himself out of Arkham and into the open had been nothing short of amazing. It had taken everything he had, and all of the favors he could muster to get him here.

He had confessed his undying love for his psychiatrist, Harley, manipulating her into assisting him. Convincing her that he was just as madly in love with her as she was with him had been child's play. Her mind was weak, and she had clung to the lie, despite its ramifications. He had even allowed her to call him "puddin," although the nickname had made him want to vomit.

Once he had convinced her to aid him, he had picked a fight with the biggest inmate on his cell block; a bald, former cage fighter who went by Tank. Some insults were traded, mothers were mentioned, and before Joker knew it, he was getting the shit kicked out of him, courtesy of Tank. The outcome of his alleged affair with Tank's mother had been several broken ribs, a black eye, a split lip, and a concussion.

It was not normal procedure at Arkham to take the inmates out of the facility for medical care, but Harley had spoken with her boss, and insisted on his behalf that he be rushed to Gotham General Hospital for an X-ray and a CT scan. Joker did his part and acted sluggish, disengaged, and very much in pain. General Reamer, the surly ex-military man that was in charge of Arkham Asylum, had reluctantly agreed to transport the Joker to Gotham General, to assess his condition.

The fools, Joker thought to himself. They had played right into his plans, and now he was exactly where he needed to be. He felt the lurch of the armored van, signaling that they had come to a stop. From his count, he believed that they were at the intersection three blocks from the hospital. Showtime.

Seconds after this thought crossed his mind, the van moved forward at the green light. A garbage truck driving way too fast, blew through his red light at the intersection, and hit the armored van directly in the driver's side door. The driver was killed instantly, and control of the armored van was lost.

The garbage truck kept moving, pushing the van, until the wheels lost touch with the pavement. The armored van teetered precariously on the edge of the tires, until it was finally pushed over on its side.

Hawk and two other men in clown masks exited the garbage truck. Hawk grabbed the large water jet that they had brought with them in the back of the truck, and hooked it up to a water pressure tank. Meanwhile all around him, car horns sounded, people shouted, and the screeching of tires and metal on metal could be heard. The two men in clown masks began to take care of the bystanders, one bullet at a time. Time was of the essence. They had maybe all of ten minutes before the cops would show up.

Hawk moved in front of the downed van, and turned on the water jet. A powerful stream of water erupted from the nozzle, and it was everything that the mercenary could do to hang on to it. He sprayed the stream of water directly on the metal of the van, moving back and forth in a square pattern, until the metal was barely hanging on. He turned off the water jet, and kicked in the metal square hole, creating an escape route for his boss.

"Took ya' long enough," the Joker chastised, rolling his eyes, as he pulled himself through the newly formed exit. "Hope ya' at least stopped and got me some, ah, lunch." Hawk grinned at his boss, noting that in the time it had taken him to cut an opening in the van, Joker had been busy. He had managed to take out the two guards in the van, remove his handcuffs, and expertly apply his trademark greasepaint.

"Did I really take that long?" the mercenary asked skeptically. The clown let out a loud cackle. "Like a girl getting dressed for prom night sweet cheeks," he replied sarcastically. Together, the two of them ran towards the waiting garbage truck, knowing that their time was running short. Joker climbed into the passenger side seat, noting that the other two men were already loaded up in the back and ready to go. Hawk jumped into the driver's seat, and put the truck into gear, speeding away as fast as he possibly could.

"You get the old man's phone number?" the clown asked once they rounded the block. One of the two men in the back handed him a slip of paper with a number written on it. Joker nodded approvingly, and then turned his attention to Hawk. "Stop by Whataburger when you get a sec. I'm starving. All this escaping nonsense has made me, ah, work up an appetite."

Police sirens sounded behind them, and Hawk shot him a glance of incredulity. "Now?" he asked, annoyed. Whataburger was normally a Texas only restaurant, but Gotham had recently put one in. Sure, the food was delicious, but with cops on their tail, and an escaped convict in his truck, he was in no mood to eat burgers. "Right now," Joker replied, his tone conveying that he expected his orders to be followed.

Hawk sighed, and turned off the main road, attempting to lose the cops. Two squad cars were hot on his tail, and closing. He tried to lose them for several minutes, turning quickly down side streets and alleys, navigating the seedier and more dangerous parts of Gotham with ease. The two men in the backseat took a few shots at their tires, and were unsuccessful at stopping the squad cars. The cops lagged behind, wary of being shot, but still followed. Beside him the Joker yawned, and stretched. "Are ya' done yet?" he asked, his tone carrying a hint of monotony. The mercenary shot him an irritated glare, wondering why he had ever decided to work for the clown in the first place.

Finally, his boss decided to do something useful. "Let's take out the trash," he shouted gleefully, as he slammed his palm down on a large button on the dashboard. The back of the garbage truck began to rise up into the air, spilling its contents into the road. The Joker clapped, and danced with glee as large pieces of metal, wood, trash bags, and other items left the garbage truck.

One metal shard bounced on impact, hitting the closest cop car directly in the front windshield. The car spun as the driver tried to regain control, but he overcompensated, and the car flipped over several times in the middle of the road. The second cop car tried to stop, but could not apply his brakes fast enough. He t-boned his fellow officer, bringing his ride to an abrupt halt.

One of the two men in the backseat took the shot, hitting the overturned cop car directly in the gas tank. A loud bang was heard, and the car burst into flames, consuming everything inside. The second cop jumped from his vehicle to help his fellow officer, only to be shot down by the Joker's men as the drove off. He crumpled to the ground next to the burning squad car and his partner. They would both die together on this day.

Finally free of their pursuers, Hawk drove to the nearest Whataburger, reluctantly satisfying his boss' craving. They would have to get moving soon. More cops would come, and they needed to make it to the safe house as soon as possible. As the Joker sat in the passenger seat eating his burger, he made the phone call.

Giovanni De Luca picked up on the other line after the third ring, irritated that someone he did not know was calling his cell phone during the poker tournament that he was hosting. "Yes," he growled upon answering the phone. "Good evening old man," Joker drawled. "I believe we need to talk business."

"Is that so?" Giovanni sneered. "Who the hell are you? And what business could I possibly have with you?" Joker wasted no time in getting to the point. "You, ah, have something that belongs to me. Your son Vince has something that belongs to me." The mob boss sat silent for a moment, not understanding what he wanted, until he remembered the high profile hostage that his son had garnered for a ransom.

"The Taggart girl?" he asked skeptically. "What do you want with her?" The clown laughed, the sound eerie though the phone. "She's, ah, she's mine, and I want her back." Now it was Giovanni's turn to laugh. "And what could you possibly give me as a trade that I don't already have?"

The Joker put his mouth directly on the speaker of the phone. "I won't, ah, kill you and your whole family if you let her go." Giovanni laughed once again. "This a prank right? Who the hell are you? Don't you know I run this town? The girl is my son's hostage, and she belongs to us until we receive payment for debts owed. The answer is no. If you want to kill me and my family go ahead and try, see how far that gets you, but at the end of the day you'll be a dead man, and I'll still have the Taggart girl."

The Joker laughed at him again, causing Giovanni to shiver at the sound. "You have a little fight in you," he said gleefully. "I like that, but, ah, I'm still going to get her back. Be ready 'cause I'm coming to find you." With that ominous threat, he hung up the phone, leaving the mob boss confused and bewildered. He didn't know who this strange man was, but he knew he needed to find out, and quick.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry for the late update! I've had a lot going on, but I didn't forget about you guys! Anyways, I would like to give a shout out to Mandy, The Other One, FALLING-ANGEL24, and Lil-B-Rebel for the reviews on the last chapter! I normally respond to each person individually through PM, but a few of you didn't sign in under your account, so I wanted to take the time to thank you for reading and reviewing my story! Your reviews keep me going and encourage me to update more quickly. **

**I obviously don't own anything Dark Knight related and I'm not profiting from this story in any way. The only things that I own are the plot and few OCs.**

**Anyways, here's chapter 3! Please read and review! As always, I love to know what you guys think!**

Chapter 3

John Blake was exhausted. He had spent the entire night at the Gotham Police Station, getting statements from a rich couple about their missing daughter.

"Coffee?" his partner asked him. He handed John a Styrofoam cup and didn't bother waiting for an answer. His partner muttered something about how the department should stock up on energy drinks instead of coffee, before plopping down in the chair next to him.

Maverick McClinton was the epitome of perfection; at least this was the image that he portrayed. He was tall and handsome, with dark hair, blue eyes, and a smile to die for. He was also intelligent, well spoken, and street savvy. John envied him greatly. Maverick had all of the qualities needed to be a fantastic cop, and John had been lucky enough to be placed under his tutelage. He strived to one day be an even better cop than his partner.

It was John's first year as a cop with the Gotham Police Department. He was fresh out of the police academy and looking to make a name for himself. Commissioner Gordon had assigned him to work with Maverick and the two men had warmed up to each other quickly, each earning his partner's trust in the field.

After a few sips of coffee, the two cops continued to question the couple before them. Their statement had been simple enough. Their daughter, Kate, had moved in with her boyfriend. The boyfriend, Miles, had accumulated some gambling debt with the wrong people and surrendered their daughter in payment for his debts. Apparently, he had assured these people that the couple before him would pay handsomely for their daughter's return.

John hoped for the sake of their daughter that they had the money. The De Luca's were a powerful, well-connected family, and he wasn't sure that the Gotham Police Department had the manpower to take them down. They had been attempting to work a sting operation on the De Luca's for the last year with some of their undercover men, but thus far their efforts had been thwarted. These men were smart and there was no way they could break down their doors and demand that they turn over their hostage. Half of the city would be in ashes by the time that they even managed to find the girl, although he couldn't exactly tell her parents that.

"Well, do you have the money?" Maverick asked them, getting straight to the point. John watched the two of them while they mulled over his partner's question.

They were a strange looking couple, with quite and age difference between them. The woman was young, probably only around forty. She seemed polite, but she was utterly terrified. Fear showed plainly on her expensive features, no doubt the outcome of many surgical procedures. She was a trophy wife, with a face that seemed much too close to that of a Barbie doll for John's comfort. She was only sixteen years older than her daughter and from the picture that they had shown him; he could tell that they shared many of the same features.

Except for the plastic surgery, John thought to himself. Truthfully, he found the daughter, Kate, to be much prettier than her mother. She seemed more real, and less surgically modified.

Her husband was the perfect embodiment of corporate wealth. He looked to be in his late sixties, dressed finely, and was clean-shaven. Not one strand of his salt and pepper hair was out of place. Unlike his young wife, he wore a scowl and seemed more agitated than worried. He met his wife's pleading gaze with a glare before answering Maverick's question.

"No, we don't have the money." The woman looked as if she were about to cry.

"Please, Charles," she begged. "We can sell the company. We can get our Kate back."

Charles merely glared at her "We will discuss this later," he snarled, his voice barely above a whisper. He turned to face the two cops, addressing them much more lightly. "Can you find her?"

John let out a breath that he had not been aware he was holding. The tension between the couple had become almost palpable and it was beginning to suffocate him.

"We will do our very best," he promised, not willing to say anything beyond that.

Finding and rescuing this girl without getting themselves killed would be nearly impossible. He would try, but he doubted that they would succeed. After a few more questions from Kate's parents, they were officially finished with their statement. The couple left the police station with hope for their daughter's rescue. John glanced at Maverick, noting that he was deep in cup number four of his coffee.

"So what now?" he asked his partner.

"It would be SO much easier if they just had the money," Maverick groaned as he set down his cup of coffee. "But since they don't, I guess you need to go get a statement from Miles and see if he can tell you anything important. Maybe he knows where these guys might be hiding. I'm going to drink another cup of coffee, and then I have a few phone calls to make."

With that he took his empty Styrofoam cup and lumbered over to the coffee maker in the corner. He quickly poured himself another cup and walked off without a word, leaving John to his thoughts.

He was alone for no more than two minutes before Maverick returned to the interrogation room, a grim look of disbelief plastered on his face.

"You're not gonna believe this," he began without preamble. "Gordon just made the announcement. Joker's escaped from Arkham."

John felt his blood run cold. He had not personally faced off with the Joker yet, as many of the cops in this department had, but he had heard enough to be fearful all the same. There was no order or reasoning with him. That was what frightened him the most. His mouth became dry, and he couldn't swallow. He struggled to get his next words out, and when he spoke it came out as no more than a shaky whisper.

"Has he started killing anyone yet?" he asked fearfully.

"Not yet," Maverick replied shaking his head. "But we have a lot bigger problems than a hostage situation."

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Hawk was about ready to murder his boss. They had been on a stake out all day after torturing one of De Luca's men into telling them where Kate was being kept. It was okay at first, until the Joker had decided to turn on the radio in the garbage truck. He had now been listening to the most annoying pop radio station that Hawk had ever heard for the last five hours. To make matters worse, as if just listening to it wasn't bad enough, he just HAD to sing along with every song.

It was terrible. Hearing his voice reminded Hawk of a coyote trapped inside of a trash compactor, but he dared not say a word.

There had almost been an issue a few hours previously when they had lost the signal to the radio station, but now one of Joker's henchmen sat outside the garbage truck, holding the receiver to the north-northeast.

He was the second man to be assigned to that ridiculous job.

The first had held the receiver for thirty minutes before complaining. He was now lying in the back of the truck with his throat slit widely from ear to ear.

The second man had not complained. At all.

To top all of the ridiculousness that surrounded him, the Joker insisted on cleaning every single one of his guns right then and there. Stripped uppers and lowers, shells of all sizes, and oil littered the cab of the garbage truck. It was almost more than Hawk could handle, but then again, complaining was not the answer. The first man to hold the receiver had learned that lesson the hard way.

Just as he was thinking that he couldn't take much more, the Joker reassembled his handgun and turned to address him.

"It's time to, ah, get this party started."

A loud crash, followed by the sound of gunshots signaled that the second team had indeed arrived. It was time to put their plan into action.

Joker and Hawk exited the vehicle at the same time and made their way down the street, weapons in tow. They were both armed with an assault rifle, a handgun, and several knives, although they weren't sure that they would even need them.

The crash they had heard was their second team of men driving into the gates of the warehouse that they had been staking out all day. There were fifteen of them total, handpicked by Hawk specifically for this job; the best shooters and fighters that he knew. Their task was simple, bust through the gates, create a distraction, and kill every man that they saw. Meanwhile, Joker and Hawk would sneak in through the back and rescue Kate. The plan was simple, but had proven to be effective in past missions.

They moved quickly, covering the block that separated the garbage truck from the warehouse in record time and scaling the chain link fence with ease. Luckily for the two intruders, there was no barbed wire adorning the top of the fence.

They hid behind a dumpster, peeking around both sides for any sign of guards. No guards seemed to be present along the rear wall of the warehouse. Perhaps luck was on their side today. It seemed that all the exterior guards had been drawn into the firefight happening at the entrance.

They could hear men's shouts and screams carried through the air as they fought and died. The flash of assault rifles lit up the sky and the taste of gunpowder was heavy in the air around them. Neither the Joker nor Hawk seemed to mind. They were both born for battle, the shock of violence and death having long worn off.

Ignoring the bloodshed around them, they entered through the back door of the old, concrete warehouse. At that point their marvelous luck ran out. Hawk had expected most of the men to aid in the firefight at the front gate, but there were still six guards that he could see who had remained to guard the warehouse.

These men opened fire on the two intruders immediately. Joker and Hawk dove behind a forklift that was near the door, staying low, and returning fire when they could. Shots rang off the forklift, pinging in every direction, getting too close to the clown and his right hand man for comfort.

Hawk picked off one man with a clean shot to the head, then a second with a shot to the gut. He looked through the scope of his rifle until he found a third man hiding behind one of the stairwells in the warehouse. He took aim and pulled the trigger.

Joker shot one of the men through the chest and a second time through the gut, making sure that he was down. A guard came running towards him, shooting wildly. The clown rolled, missing shot after shot. He let out a glorious laugh, which was silenced almost immediately as the guard caught on to his movement and aimed correctly.

A bullet sliced through his shoulder, causing the Joker to hiss in pain, but he never wavered. His switchblade found his assailants knees, slicing them open like butter. The man screamed out in pain and the clown's switchblade found its way to his face, where it went straight through his forehead.

The Joker laughed with glee as the man died at his hand, not seeming to even notice the blood staining his jacket from his own wound.

The final remaining guard dropped his weapon and raised his arms in the air in surrender. Joker sauntered over to the man, followed closely by Hawk, who was silently appraising his boss' wound. Before the surrendering man could breathe a sigh or relief, the clown pressed the switchblade to his throat.

"If you value your life, you'll tell me exactly what I, ah, need to know," he growled. "There's a girl here. You, ah, kidnapped her. I want to know where she is. Tell me and maybe I'll let you live."

The man nodded in fear and pointed to the southwest corner of the warehouse. Perhaps it was his fear of the Joker that made him talk, or the feel of his co-worker's blood being pressed into his throat at the sharp point of a knife, but talk he did.

"Up the stairs, last door on the right. Please…" His words stopped as the Joker slit his throat in one smooth motion. The man fell to his knees as blood spurted from his wound.

"I thought you said you were going to let him live?" Hawk asked skeptically.

"I lied," the clown laughed.

Hawk turned his attention to the corner of the warehouse furthest from him. There, stacked in piles ceiling high, were countless wads of bills. Most likely, this was one of the places where the De Luca's hid and laundered their gambling money.

"What should I do with the money?" Hawk queried, unsure of what his boss would want done.

"Burn it all," Joker replied easily. "Give 'em a show. I'm gonna go find our girl."

Hawk nodded and pulled out his lighter with the intent of setting the stacks of cash on fire, while Joker headed up the stairs in the southwest corner of the warehouse.

"I'm comin' for ya' doll," he muttered to himself.

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Kate wasn't sure how long she had been tied to the chair, or kept in this room by herself. She tried to remember. It was important that she knew how long it had been since Vince De Luca's men had taken her hostage, so she could take a guess as to when she might be rescued or killed. She was certainly hoping for the first option, but the second was more likely.

There were two guards posted outside the door to her holding chamber, that much she knew. She could hear their voices through the door as they talked about everything from the weather to intimate sexual discussions. Sometimes they would feed her. One of the guards had come in twice now with food for her. Since her hands were tied, Kate supposed he had been instructed to feed her by hand or loose her bonds, but he didn't do either. He had simply sat the food down by the chair and left. Like she could really reach it…

Not that she would anyway. She didn't want anything from these men, and she certainly didn't want to eat their food. Judging by the fact that she had been "fed" twice, she assumed that she had been their prisoner for roughly a day to a day and a half.

Personally, she would rather be gouging her own eyes out with a spork. The plastic ones that are so dull, you could barely stab a french fry. Yeah… That would be WAY more fun than this…

Not that she hadn't tried to escape. Her wrists and ankles were raw and bleeding from her attempts. Her bonds were so tight, that every single time she moved the ropes dug deeper into her flesh. Eventually, it had become too painful and she had given up.

The sounds of gunshots from inside the warehouse reached her ears, and she grinned, the act causing her great pain. Those sounds brought her more hope than she dared to admit. Perhaps it was the police and they had come to rescue her.

"Please," she begged softly. "Please let them be here."

She thought about her options. She couldn't escape, but she could yell for help. If it was the police, they would be able to find her more easily. If it wasn't the police… well then God help her… she would punished for crying out. She mulled over her choices until she head more gunshots, closer this time.

It was now or never.

"Help! Someone help me!" Kate shouted. They had to hear her. They had to come for her. "Please help!" she cried.

The door to her room opened and the guard who had brought in the food for her earlier stepped in. He slammed the door behind him and approached her angrily.

"Shut up!" he growled.

"What's going on out there?" she asked, hopeful.

Her inquiry was met with a loud crack as the guard brought down the butt of his handgun onto her head. Kate winced in pain, trying desperately to hold back the tears that threatened to spill as her head was splitting and she became disoriented. She could feel blood trickling down her forehead, and she had a difficult time catching her breath. Her head was spinning wildly and she felt sick.

"I told you to shut up," the guard growled.

Then, to her absolute horror, he leaned over and pressed his lips harshly to her mouth. Once the initial shock wore off, Kate bit down hard on his lips, breaking the skin. The guard cried out, and she could feel the warm, metallic taste of his blood in her mouth. She tried to spit, anything to get the taste of him out of her mouth.

The guard reacted to this travesty quickly. He pulled away and struck her hard across the face for embarrassing him.

"Fuck orders," he seethed. "If I'm going to die today, I'll have you first."

Kate struggled desperately against her restraints, not caring that they were cutting into her already raw and bleeding flesh. She just knew that she had to get away before this man took her against her will.

The guard ran his hand from her neck to the top of her blouse and then underneath, squeezing her roughly. She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he began to kiss her. The tears that threatened Kate earlier now spilled uncontrollably in shame. She was going to be raped and there was nothing that she could do about it.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to block out his voice and his touch. She was sick with disgust, but all she could do was cry. She thought about pleading with the man, but knew that it was a useless gesture. She had to be strong. Only the strong survive. She could feel the guard beginning to undo the buttons on her blouse. First one, then two.

She heard the door open and tried not to cry harder at the thought of being taken against her will by both guards. She waited for the third button to be pulled loose, but the guard's touch never came.

Instead, a sickening sound of tearing flesh, a scream, and a spine tingling cackle filled her ears. Kate's eyes shot open to the sight of her assailant dropping to his knees, blood spewing from his throat.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn't find her voice. Kate's eyes traveled from the man who had assaulted her only moments ago to the man who had saved her, taking in his appearance for the first time.

He was tall, with green hair and a purple suit, which was stained with blood. His face was covered in white paint, with black around the eyes and red smeared where his lips were. Scars extended from each side of his mouth up to his cheekbones, grotesquely smeared with red paint in the form of a perpetual smile. He wore a real smile also, which dropped as soon as he saw her.

Kate's brain was fuzzy from the abuse that she had received, but she recognized her savior almost immediately.

It was the Joker.

She had remembered watching countless news reports covering his reign in Gotham several years before. She had thought that he would still be in prison, but yet here he was, standing right in front of her.

The Joker sauntered over to her and took her chin gently in his gloved hands. Kate flinched at his touch, which only made his frown deepen and his mouth twitch at the corners in irritation. She thought for a moment that he would hit her like the guard had, but he didn't. He moved her head gently from one side to the other, inspecting her bruised and bloody face before releasing her chin.

"You look terrible doll," he said, stating the obvious and seeming angrier than he had only moments before.

"Please don't hurt me," Kate whispered, her tone of voice pleading.

She immediately regretted her words as she saw something akin to fury flash in the Joker's eyes. His face contorted in anger, and she feared that he would truly strike her this time, but again he didn't.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he snarled as he leaned down to cut her bonds with the switchblade. It took less than a minute before she was free.

Kate stood up uncertainly, feeling throbbing pain from almost every part of her body. She glanced a look at the Joker, who was still fuming as he put his switchblade back in his pocket.

She didn't like him and she sure as hell didn't trust him, but he had saved her from the guard. She had to make it right.

When his eyes met hers, she kept his gaze, giving him a small smile.

"Thank you."

He nodded gruffly, but his mood improved some, and she was glad that she had thanked him.

"Can ya' walk?" he asked her suddenly.

"I..I think so," she responded slowly.

"Then let's go sweetheart. You're coming with me."

Kate's eyes went wide with horror.

"NO!" she all but shouted. "I don't want to go anywhere with you! I just want to go home!"

A flash of hurt graced the Joker's face for only the briefest of seconds before it was replaced with his trademark grin.

"I don't think ya' get it princess… You can come with me," he hiked a thumb out at himself. "Or ya' can stay here with them." The Joker gestured to the dead guard on the floor. "There's more of 'em out there."

He ran his tongue along his bottom lip nervously, before extending a gloved hand to her. Kate looked from him to the guard on the floor, and back to him again. Either way, her options weren't good.

Deciding on the lesser of two evils, she took the Joker's hand, causing his grin to grow even wider. Without a word, he began to lead her out of the room.

Kate took several steps on her own before realizing that she wasn't going to be able to make it. Her legs were like lead, heavy and painful to move, and her ankles were raw from being bound so tightly. She took one more step and instantly regretted it as she collapsed.

Before she could hit the ground, Joker caught her, wrapping his arms around her midsection. The intimacy was terrifying. She had not expected him to grab her like that. Kate could feel her heart almost stop at his touch. The most wanted criminal in Gotham was holding her. This was not in any way okay.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to carry ya' doll," he smirked.

Kate opened her mouth to object, but knew that it was useless. He was right. She couldn't walk on her own. She had already been abused and violated today, so what was a little more personal embarrassment? So long as she could get out of here, did it really matter?

She nodded in defeat as the Joker hoisted her up in his arms. He held her almost in a bridal style, making her very uncomfortable. She tried not to rest her head against his chest. She didn't like being in a compromising position like this. It was almost as if the clown read her mind.

"Relax sweetheart, you won't have to be close to me for very long."

Kate's cheeks burned bright with embarrassment. Was her distaste for him that obvious? She relaxed just enough to keep him from chastising her again. Apparently satisfied, he began to carry her out of the warehouse. They walked down the stairs and into the lower level of the warehouse. She tried not to look as they passed several dead bodies, but the massive fires in the corner caught her attention.

"Burning the money," Joker commented, again as if reading her mind.

She didn't understand why they were burning the money, but she was afraid to ask. She didn't want to speak to him any more than necessary. She was afraid to even look at him, lest he decide to kill her like he had those other men.

The walk outside was short, and men were waiting for the Joker, ushering him into a black sedan. The men looked at Kate, but said nothing.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, as he helped her into the sedan, sitting next to her only when he made sure that she was comfortable.

"You'll see."

Terrified didn't even begin to cover how Kate felt at that moment. She had traded one captor for another, with no idea when or if she would ever be allowed to go home.

The Joker's men closed the doors of the sedan and they drove off, with Joker sitting far too close to her for comfort. She had escaped the frying pan, only to be jumping into the fire.

**That's all for chapter 3! Hopefully I can update this story a little more promptly next time. Hope you enjoyed, and as always, please read and review! I love to hear what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi everyone! I know… It's been forever since I've updated. Life and business has been a little hectic as of late, but I promise that I have not forgotten about this story. Just be patient with me and I will finish it at some point. This chapter has a little bit of back-story for Joker/Kate and some action as well. Anyways… Sorry for the delay. Please enjoy this extra long chapter as apology for how long you had to wait. Read, review, and enjoy!**

Chapter 4

_Jack watched her from the back of the gymnasium, as she was crowned prom queen. It was a bittersweet moment for him. Sweet, because the girl he had loved since the first grade was being crowned queen. Bitter, because it was not him at her side, holding a bouquet of roses for her, and pulling her into his arms. Kate would never look at him like he was the only guy in the world. She would never love him, and he would never be at her side. The truth cut deeply, but he needed to keep reminding himself. He was nothing but trash, and she was a queen._

_His queen looked absolutely breathtaking tonight, and he was glad that he decided against his previous notion to not attend. Had he not attended, he would have missed this. The prom itself was nice, but he had eyes only for her. Kate wore a floor length purple silk dress that had a sweetheart neckline and a small slit up one side. It was both beautiful and seductive at the same time. Her blond hair was swept back in a stylish up-do, and she was laughing and smiling, always smiling. _

_She scanned the crowd, her eyes stopping on Jack, and she smiled even more widely, a healthy blush filling her cheeks. Shocked, he returned the smile, his face burning with embarrassment. She wasn't supposed to see him watching her. This was supposed to be a secret, but she had SMILED at him, and that in itself was worth losing his secret._

_Kate broke their eye contact when her boyfriend, Collin, pulled her to him and kissed her deeply. Jack turned away, unable to watch and headed for the exit. He had seen what he had came for, and he wanted to leave before the sight of his Katie with another guy made him angry. _

_He stepped outside into the night air, breathing deeply, and leaned against the wall around the corner, where he would not be seen and would be left alone. He adjusted his coat, his borrowed, mismatched suit a constant reminder of everything that he would never be. _

_Jack stayed against the wall for some time, not wanting to go home. The only thing that would be waiting for him at home was his drunk and often volatile father. He wasn't really in the mood to be punished for staying out too late and shirking the dishes. He still sported a nasty bruise from the last time his father had "punished" him. _

_Just as he decided that his father was probably passed out and it was safe to go home, he heard the gym door around the corner slam shut, and voices drifted his way._

"_What do you mean you want me to take you home?" Collin growled. "I booked that hotel room just for us, thinking that you would want to make our prom night special! What's wrong with you? Any other girl would be grateful to spend the night in a hotel with me!"_

_Jack crept along the wall, getting closer, but not close enough that they could see him. _

"_I'm sorry Collin," Kate spoke softly. "I'm just not ready for that yet. I'll get there eventually. I just need you to be patient with me."_

_Her final words came out as a sob. From around the corner, he could hear the snickering laugh of her boyfriend as he watched her cry. Jack could feel the anger rising up in him, boiling over. He wanted to hurt Collin. He wanted to take a knife and carve him into a human jack-o-lantern for making his Kate cry. No one should EVER make her cry. _

"_When are you going to be ready Kate? A week from now? Months? Years?" Collin sneered. "I'm tired of waiting. Maybe I'll go fuck one of your friends tonight, see how that makes you feel. You're rich and you're hot, but you're not worth the wait."_

"_I should have never dated you," she sobbed. "I just did it because my dad pushed me. You're such an asshole! I don't want to see you ever again!"_

_Jack crept closer, until he was at the corner of the wall, and waited, seeing how this would all play out. He heard a sharp intake of breath from his Kate, and Collin's angry and menacing voice._

"_What did you say to me bitch?" he growled. "You won't break up with me. You would disappoint your dad again if you did that. Did you know that he paid me to marry you after we graduate, so you wouldn't embarrass him by marrying some loser? How does it feel knowing that daddy wants to sell you like livestock? How does it feel to be nothing more than an animal?"_

"_Stop it! You're hurting me!"_

_Jack could wait no longer. He rounded the corner, his rage overflowing, and faced the other boy. What he saw only made him angrier. Collin was gripping Kate's jaw tightly in one hand, forcing her to look at him. Tears ran down her beautiful cheeks, and a pained expression graced her features._

"_Let her go," Jack commanded, his body shaking with rage. _

_Collin laughed with no real mirth, releasing Kate, and stepping towards the smaller boy._

"_Jack, it's ok," Kate pleaded. "Just go. I don't want you to get hurt."_

"_You heard her!" Collin jeered. "She's fine. Move along freak!"_

_Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. There was nothing he hated worse than being called a freak. That was the term that his father reserved for him when he decided that he needed someone to hurt. _

_Jack charged the bigger boy, throwing a punch that connected with his gut. Collin staggered back, but was only fazed for a moment before he came after his smaller adversary. He threw a punch, hitting Jack squarely in the mouth and splitting his lip. He grabbed the collar of his mismatched suit, and dished out blow after blow to the smaller boy's face._

"_Stop it!" Kate screamed, but her boyfriend ignored her, intent on beating the boy before him to a pulp._

_Suddenly, he cried out in pain as a small pocketknife was plunged into his side. Jack pulled the blade out, only to slice the larger boy's arms with it. Collin dropped him immediately, and began to retreat, blood dripping from the wounds in his side and on his arms. _

_Jack's face was now bloody and bruised, but he advanced on his retreating adversary, brandishing the knife, which gleamed in the moonlight. Collin retreated until his back was pressed against the wall of the gym. Jack moved swiftly, crowding him, and placing the knife against his throat. _

_He could feel the boy's rapid heartbeat, see the terror in his eyes, and suddenly he wanted to cut him. He wanted more than anything to slide the knife across his throat, to smell the metallic scent of his blood, to hear his dying gurgles, and to see the life drain from his beady eyes as he bled out. _

_Jack ran his tongue absentmindedly across his bottom lip. He was about to slit the other boy's throat, when the voice of an angel stopped him. _

"_Jack," she soothed. "Please don't. Please let him go. I'm ok! I promise!"_

_He loved the way that his name sounded when she said it. Her voice was honey, and nothing had ever sounded sweeter to him. Jack closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, controlling his urges. He would not kill. He would deny his primal urges for her, simply because she asked him not to. _

_Jack released Collin, who had pissed himself in fear, and was shaking uncontrollably. _

"_Y-You're crazy!" he shouted. "Stay the hell away from me!" With that, he took out, running down the street, never once looking back._

_Kate stepped towards Jack immediately. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Let me see your face."_

_He turned away from her, muttering "I'm sorry," under his breath. The situation itself was comical, and Kate found herself laughing, her first real laugh in a long time. _

"_Sorry for what Jack? What could you possibly have to be sorry for?"_

_There it was again. The sound of his name rolling off of her beautiful lips. It was incredibly wrong, and yet so right at the same time. There was nothing that he wanted more than to hear it again and again, however, he quickly gave himself a reality check. He had almost killed her boyfriend in front of her. She undoubtedly thought of him as a freak like everyone else did._

"_I'm sorry for hurting him," he whispered, still not looking at her. "I shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of you. If you think I'm a freak and don't want to talk to me again, I understand. I just saw him hurting you and I lost it. I'm sorry Kate."_

"_Don't be sorry," she said firmly. "I mean… sure… the whole knife thing was kinda scary. I've never seen anyone get stabbed in my entire life until tonight… but you wanna know what's really crazy?" _

_Jack took her query as a rhetorical question and continued to stare at the ground. He knew what was crazy. He was crazy, and now Kate knew he was crazy. She didn't just suspect it anymore, she KNEW now. Kate continued on without waiting for a response. A small smile broke over her face as she uttered her next words._

"_That was the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me."_

_Finally, Jack looked at her, taking in her smile with disbelief etched on his features. Surely she was lying? Kate was beautiful. She had to have guys waiting in line to protect her and take care of her. Didn't she?_

"_Stay here," Kate told him, her smile growing even wider for him. "I'll be right back."_

_She was gone for exactly three minutes. Jack thought about bolting, about running down the street and out of her life for good. He would be doing her a favor. Trash like him would be no good for her. She deserved so much better, but he couldn't make himself leave her, so he waited. _

_Kate returned with napkins from inside the gym. As she was walking towards him, he could see that her makeup was smeared from crying, and a bruise was starting to form on her chin. It made him wish he had killed Collin. He should have killed him for this. Kate approached him boldly and stood directly in front of him._

"_I wet down the napkins in the bathroom," she said carefully. "If you hold still for a minute, I'll clean your face."_

_Jack visibly stiffened, but nodded his affirmation, allowing her to bring the napkin up to his face. _

"_Why did you do that," she finally asked him as she worked to clean the blood from his nose and cheeks. The question had been playing in her mind since he threw the first punch at her now ex-boyfriend. Her touch was feather light, and Jack found himself enjoying her attentions more than he should._

"_You didn't have to intervene. Why did you risk getting the crap kicked out of you for me?"_

_At this inquiry, Jack's face burned. He wasn't ready to confess his feelings for her, and he certainly didn't want to scare her away._

"_I just didn't like seeing him hurting you," he shrugged, deciding to play it off as if he rescued kittens from trees and helped old ladies across the street in his spare time._

_Kate finished with his face, discarding the napkins in the street. In the moonlight he could see her face scrunched up in concentration as she assessed her work. She ran one hand over the bruise that was beginning to form on the left side of his face, and he shuddered under her touch as the need within him was awakened. _

_He expected her to say her goodbyes and leave him now that she was finished, but what she did was unexpected and shocked him to the very core. _

_Kate stood on tiptoes and lightly pressed her lips to his. The kiss was fleeting, lasting only a second, but Jack felt like the luckiest guy in the world all the same. She pulled back, her cheeks hot with blush over her actions._

"_Thank you," she whispered to him. "For everything."_

_Jack was so stunned that he had no words. Every inch of his body felt as though it were on fire, burning in the most pleasurable kind of way._

"_Can I make it up to you somehow?" she asked playfully. "Let you copy my chemistry homework for the rest of the year? Maybe buy your lunch every day? Wash your car?"_

_Jack grinned at her, feeling bolder than he had ever felt in his entire life. He was on top of the world, unstoppable._

"_You can make it up to me by going to dinner with me next weekend, and letting me walk you home tonight."_

_Kate flashed a smile at him, seeming surprisingly pleased with his terms._

"_Deal," she promised, and when he looked at her, he noticed that she was giving him the very same look that he had envied her boyfriend for a few hours ago. She looked at him as if her was the only guy in the world that mattered to her, and he liked it._

"Boss," Hawk interrupted carefully. The Joker had been in his makeshift office in the warehouse that they were currently occupying all morning, yelling and throwing everything within reach. From the sight of the broken glass on the floor and the knives buried in the wall, he would venture to say that something had "upset" his boss.

"Joker," he spoke warily, but louder this time.

The clown turned to face him, a wild grin on his face. His makeup was smeared and his hair was wild.

"Yes," he growled impatiently, popping the 's'.

"Sir," Hawk continued, still cautious. "Preparations have been made for you as you asked, and a shipment will be arriving tonight at the docks.

"Good," the Joker drawled. "I intend to give them a show they'll, ah, never forget."

He dismissed Hawk with a wave of his hand. Before the mercenary left, he opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again as if regretting the thought.

"What is it?" the clown snapped, in no mood for games.

"The woman we rescued," he began slowly. 'Ms. Taggart, she's been asking for you. I think she wants to talk about her living conditions."

"And, ah, what exactly is wrong with her living conditions?" his boss asked irritably.

Hawk grimaced, choosing his next words carefully. He could see the Joker's hand wrap tightly around the blade of a knife, and he fought to see his message through to completion.

"She's asking if she can go home. I think some more space would help. She's cooped up in there and going stir crazy, I think."

The Joker sighed deeply, sounding more tired than annoyed.

"I'll deal with it."

Hawk nodded and then proceeded to leave. He wanted to say more, but held his tongue. The mercenary wasn't sure who the woman was, but he knew that the boss cared far more for her than he was letting on. Hawk said nothing, knowing that to voice his thoughts would be a death sentence, and simply left to attend his other duties.

Left to his own devices, Joker steeled himself for what was to come. Going to see Kate was far more nerve wracking than what he had planned for tonight. He had not been to see her since they arrived at the warehouse. It was too painful.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the look of absolute terror on her face when he had rescued her. The way her pretty blue eyes had become panicked and fearful stung him more than any words. It had taken him days, and every memory that he possessed to recall the way that she had looked at him when he was Jack.

She would never look at him like that again, Joker reminded himself. Jack was dead, and he was all that remained. A monster and a freak. She would never see him the same way again, even if she knew. He steadied himself before putting his knife away and heading downstairs to talk to her.

Kate paced in her makeshift room angrily. It had been four days since she had been brought to this warehouse by the Joker, and she had not seen him since.

She had been terrified at first, huddled in the corner of the room, afraid that someone would try to hurt her like the Vince DeLuca's men had. However, no one ever came in to bother her. The man they called Hawk had been bringing her food three times a day, but he rarely ever talked to her. He just gave her the food, and then locked her door back as he left. A doctor came in to tend to her wounds, but no one else had come near her.

Kate had sat in the corner, terrified to sleep on the cot they had provided for her for the first day and a half. They would wait until she was asleep, and then someone would come in and rape her, she was sure of it. She waited and waited, but no one save Hawk and the doctor came for her. Finally, her exhaustion won out against her fear and she had slept on the second day.

Upon awakening the previous day and discovering that she still remained unmolested, she had decided that no one was going to rape her. If they were going to, they would have already done so.

That was yesterday. Nothing had happened since then. Hawk still brought her food, but the reality that she was locked up in a strange place with no one to talk to and nowhere to go was finally beginning to wear on her.

The room she was in appeared to have once been a human resources office. They had provided her with all the amenities that she could ever need, along with several fresh changes of clothes. There was a small bathroom in the back of her room, and she had used the sink to brush her teeth, wash off with the bar of soap that had been given to her, and shampoo her hair. She had changed her clothes after she was sure that no one was watching her and waiting to take advantage of her.

Kate had spent all of the previous day looking for a way to escape, but to no avail. There were no windows in her room, and the door remained locked at all times. She had even tried looking for trap doors in the walls like she had seen on the movies, but nothing, always nothing. Vince DeLuca and his men had taken her cell phone and all of her belongings, leaving her with no way to communicate with the outside world. She was trapped here, and beginning to figuratively suffocate.

Finally, deciding that she could take no more, Kate had demanded to talk to the Joker. Every time Hawk came in to bring her food, she would state her demands, trying her best to be confident and fearless. Every single time, without fail, he would ignore her, Shit was getting old. Kate had resigned herself to the fact that she would have to find something in the room and threaten to kill herself. Maybe then he would take her seriously. Or maybe he would let her do it, she didn't know.

Just as she was beginning to look for some shoelaces or a pocketknife, the door to her room began to open slowly. It was not yet time for her lunch, so she instantly became wary. Perhaps she had angered them with her demands, and they had sent someone to "take care of her". She shuddered at the thought of facing death yet again. Why did she have to go and open her big mouth? Why couldn't she have just been happy to be alive?

The door opened further, and the Joker stepped in, looking incredibly displeased.

Oh shit.

She had really done it now.

"So I, ah, heard that you want to talk to me doll," he drawled slowly, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he watched her.

The look in his eyes was almost predatory, and she tried desperately not to run away from him screaming. She had thought that she wanted to talk to him, but she had been wrong. Now that he was actually in the room with her, Kate feared that she had made a horrible mistake. She felt every ounce of bravery and boredom induced courage that she possessed slip away, leaving her timid and frightened in front of Gotham's most dangerous criminal.

"Well…" she began softly, keeping her eyes down, focusing on her feet, and refusing to look at him. "I would really like to get out of this room. Maybe go outside? Or give me a job where I can do something other than sit here?"

There was no response. No shouting or anger like she had expected. Kate chanced raising her eyes to meet his. To her surprise they held no anger at all, only a strange emotion that she could not place.

"So ya' want some freedom…" the clown mused to himself. "That can be arranged, with a few stipulations of course."

Kate's face dropped slightly, but she nodded her head in agreement.

"Anything," she jumped in, but then remembered her time with the DeLuca's and immediately regretted her words. Anything meant ANYTHING.

"Well almost anything…" she amended, looking flustered.

The Joker picked up on her thoughts and instantly became angrier than she had ever seen him. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he stalked towards her.

"Ya' think I would do that to you?" he growled, his voice full of venom.

"I saved ya' a few days ago from men that WOULD have done those things, or did ya' forget about that? I'm a classy criminal sweetheart. I told ya' that I wouldn't hurt ya' and I'm a man of my word."

Kate visibly relaxed at his words. His anger frightened her, but she could handle that as long as he didn't hurt her. His anger was most definitely the lesser of two evils.

"I'm sorry. It's just still really fresh," she admitted, trying to placate her captor. "What are your terms?" she added, deciding that changing the subject was her best course of action.

The clown was now standing less than a foot away from her. He was so close that it terrified her. She tried taking a few shaky steps back, until she ran into the wall behind her. He kept advancing, boxing her in, and moved his face in close enough that their noses were almost touching.

He was so close that she could smell the scent of gasoline, greasepaint, and gunpowder that emanated from him. She could see the spots where his greasepaint was beginning to smear. She even noticed his eyes. They were not black as she had thought, but a deep shade of brown. If she were not absolutely terrified, she might have taken more time to appreciate their beauty.

Kate forced herself to calm her hammering heart, and to breathe deeply. This was an intimidation tactic. If the Joker wanted to hurt her, he would have done so already. She had nothing to fear. She kept repeating these things to herself until they became her mantra. He wouldn't hurt her, she had nothing to fear. Gradually, little by little she became calmer. Her breathing slowed to almost normal, and she relaxed somewhat. The clown seemed pleased by her calmer state, and spoke to her gently.

"I'll give ya' free reign of this warehouse, along with a nice shower and bathroom that you can use, but," he interjected, popping the 't'. "You will not go outside, or near my men without either myself or Hawk present. I will instruct the men not to look at ya' and if you leave them alone, everything should be fine."

Kate chanced to meet his eyes again, the only part of him that she did not find terrifying, the only thing that was truly normal about time. She tried to forget who he was, tried only to think about him as a normal man who was offering her a little bit of freedom while she was in captivity.

"Deal," she whispered, fearing that her voice would give away the slight tremble of fear that stayed with her if she spoke any louder. In that moment, she finally dared to ask the question that she really wanted to ask, although she already knew what he would say. She had to try though.

"Can I go home soon?" she whispered, far too hopeful. She had seen how he burned the money when he rescued her. Whatever he wanted, it wasn't money. Maybe, just maybe, he would realize that she could offer nothing to him, and would let her go.

The Joker ran his tongue across his bottom lip, thoughtfully.

"You're jokes are terrible Katie," he jested. "Ya' really need some new ones. I didn't even crack a smile."

"So that's a no then," Kate deadpanned.

"No," Joker concurred. "Ya' got the whole mob out lookin' for ya'. Don't ya' think your home will be the first place they'll go? You're safer here with me, and trust me sweetheart, ya' need all the safety you can get."

He giggled in a way that made the hairs on Kate's neck stand up, and in that moment, she was reminded that she was dealing with an unstable man.

He caught her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. The clown's eyes traveled over her face and neck, assessing her healing wounds.

Kate tried not to flinch, and failed, eliciting a growl of anger from her captor. She was beginning to notice a pattern between her fear and his anger. The more fearful she became, the angrier he seemed.

Despite her negative response, the Joker was surprisingly gentle with her, working over her face with a gloved hand and examining her wounds. When he was pleased with what he saw, he released her and stepped back.

"You're wounds are, ah, healing nicely," he commented. "I'll leave the door unlocked for ya' and if ya' need anything, let me know."

He began to open the door to leave, but was stopped as Kate found herself uttering "Wait!"

The clown turned to face her once again, with a look on his face that was both quizzical and amused at the same time.

"Thank you," she whispered, barely audible. "Thank you for rescuing me, and for everything."

His face pulled into a grin and he made a show of bowing to her.

"Anything for you doll," he cackled as he walked out, leaving her alone once again.

Frank Goldsmith took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. No amount of nicotine in the world could calm his nerves tonight.

The shipment was late.

This was not entirely unusual, but that didn't mean that he liked it. As a man of punctuality, Frank believed that everyone else should be punctual as well, and it annoyed him to no end when others did not live up to this standard. To top off his annoyance over the late shipment, he was working with green men. These men had not spent much or any time in the business, and had never seen what he liked to call "aggressive negotiations."

Frank had been working for Tony DeLuca for the last five years. Before that, the two of them had been like brothers, practically grown up together. They had been gambling partners in their teens, and now they were both successful businessmen. Tony had actually admitted once to liking Frank more than he liked his own brother by blood.

He took another drag on his cigarette, trying to calm his nerves. Ever since Tony had told him that he was taking the greens out to pick up this shipment, he had developed an unrealistic fear that SOMETHING bad was going to happen. He didn't know how or why, but he felt it.

The breeze from the bay blew in towards the docks, taking Frank's cigarette smoke with it as it moved inland. The light of a boat headed towards the dock caught his attention, alleviating some of his worry. At least the shipment was here.

He threw the now finished cigarette butt on the dock, and ground it under his heel before turning to face the greens. They were a stupid bunch, all young wanna-be thugs who thought they were hardcore. Frank knew that half of these "hardcore" thugs would shit their pants the first time that they were involved in a shootout. The last ones did, and Frank hated being a babysitter to grown men.

"Do you ladies remember everything I've told you?" he asked skeptically.

The men nodded quickly in assent.

"Be on the lookout for company too. The Joker is out of Arkham, and word on the street has it that he might be involved in the burning of Vince's warehouse."

The men nodded, and one laughed hysterically. The sound of his laughter grated on Frank's nerves, and he lashed out.

"What's so damn funny?" he shouted.

The man continued to laugh before replying, his voice a sing song mocking tone.

"I heard that the Joker's crazy, a real nut job if ya' know what I mean."

"Uh…yeah…" Frank responded slowly. "That's real funny….What's your name anyway?"

The man was clad in black tactical pants and a gray hoodie with the hood pulled up over his face.

"Doe," the man replied sarcastically. "John Doe. Name's don't really matter all that much do they. I could be Bill, or John, or Bob, and I would still be me."

Frank could feel his blood pressure shoot through the roof. He was beginning to get really angry. Not only did he have to deal with greens, but now one of them thought he was a wise guy.

"That's Tommy sir," one of the other men answered for him. "He's a bit strange, but Johnny says he's a good fighter and can be trusted."

Frank grunted. He would have to teach Tommy some respect, and quickly.

The boat docked, and several men began wheeling a large crate down the boat dock. Frank moved forward, shook hands with the captain, and began inspecting the crate to make sure that everything was as it should be. When he was pleased with the shipment, he signaled to the greens to stay on guard, but all was well so far.

Suddenly, there was a loud screeching noise, and the twisting of metal raked across the bay. Frank, the greens, and the suppliers all jerked around to face the ship, which went up in flames almost immediately. An ear-splitting bang could be heard as the ships fuel tank exploded, and Frank fell back from the force of the blast. He could feel heat radiating from the inferno that had once been a ship, and he could see people shouting, but their voices sounded far away and muddled.

A quick feel of the blood on one side of his face confirmed that his eardrum had been shattered in the blast. He tried to lift himself off of the ground, he had to command the greens, he had to get his team out of here.

Men ran, firing weapons, and his greens scattered, trying to defend themselves, but being shot down all the same. Frank almost had his legs beneath him, when he felt a foot kick him back to the ground from behind.

It was Tommy.

He reached for his gun, but the man grabbed him by the throat and pressed a knife to his face.

"Ah…Ah…" he admonished, clicking his tongue in a sarcastic manner.

Tommy ran the flat blade of his knife along Frank's cheek and stopped at his mouth.

"I tried to tell you the Joker was crazy," he mused, his voice sounding far away and soft as silk.

"But you didn't listen to me."

He pouted like an indignant child. Frank might have found it funny if the knife hadn't made its way inside his mouth.

"I guess I'll just have to show ya'," Tommy exclaimed before throwing back his hood to reveal two wicked scars at the corners of his mouth

"Why so serious Frankie?" he asked teasingly. "Let's put a smile on that face!"

Frank tried to scream, but was cut short as the knife began to cut from his mouth to his cheek. He tried to stay alive, tried to fight, but the Joker was stronger.

His marred, sadistic face kept becoming more and more fuzzy until Frank could no longer feel the pain. When the darkness came to him, he welcomed it with open arms.

The phone rang once, twice, three time before Giovanni DeLuca rolled out of bed to answer it.

"What?" he growled into the receiver, not particularly happy about being awakened from his slumber.

"I take it you haven't heard about what happened at the docks?" the familiar voice purred through the phone.

Instantly sleep was forgotten as Giovanni realized who he was speaking with.

"N…No," he stammered. "What happened?"

"Some of your men got jumped at the docks as they were receiving a shipment. Blew up my tanker, and killed every single one of your men. A guy by the name of Frank Goldsmith was found with his face cut up. There was a Joker card found on top of his body. It's the Joker's work. That's a fact. Now what are you going to do about it? Answer carefully, because your life may depend on it."

Giovanni took in the words of his boss in a panic stricken moment. The Joker had made a fool of him, and the Renegade wanted to know what he was going to do about it. What was he going to do about it? He didn't know yet, but he couldn't reveal that information to his boss. Instead, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, and spoke with as much certainty as he could muster.

"I'll hunt him down, make him pay for what he's done. He won't bother our business ever again."

"I certainly hope so, for your sake," the Renegade remarked dryly. "Take care of the problem. Don't make me get involved. If I have to take care of it myself, you'll regret it."

"I will," Giovanni promised, but all he heard was the dial tone.

He placed the phone back in its cradle and crawled back into bed. Sleep eluded him, and he lay in bed, thinking of the Renegade's words over and over.

_Take care of the problem._

He was in way over his head.

**Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed, and sorry again for the late update. I can't make any promises for the timing on the next chapter, just know that there WILL be a next chapter. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story! Your follows, favorites and reviews make my day! Please feel free to leave a review for me! Reviews encourage me to write faster ; ) Anyways, hope you all have a spectacular Thanksgiving!**


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